My mother is right about a lot of things – too many things, really. I think it has gone to her head. But she does have one wrong quirk that she refuses to give up; she insists that temperature is a flavour.
“Oh, that’s good tea. It’s so hot!”
“I don’t like their soup. It’s never hot enough.”
“Yuck, these mushrooms taste cold.”
These are all actual sentences that my mother has said. If it can’t scald her mouth, she doesn’t want to eat it.
I couldn’t help but think of her and her idiosyncrasy when temperatures here got particularly low recently. The weather forecast didn’t describe what was going on in the sky like it normally would – mostly sunny, partly cloud, or snow flurries, for example.
Instead, it used one simple, ominous word: frigid.
The good news, Mum, is that when things get cold enough, they can also do damage to your body parts. I’m sure first degree frost bite to the mouth doesn’t feel too different from a first degree burn. You’ll still come visit, right?